


Until We Meet Again

by Red_Lenses



Series: When The Storm Breaks [6]
Category: Rockman | Mega Man Classic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disguise, Faking Death, Haircuts, M/M, and mentions of Quint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Lenses/pseuds/Red_Lenses
Summary: With the threat of a new takeover attempt looming over the city, Blues decides to ask Bass for help in staging his own disappearance.





	Until We Meet Again

The tension that had been growing within the fortress for some time was finally nearing boiling point. Bass had been around for long enough to know what it all meant. There would be no other reason Metal would harass various Robot Masters over tune-ups. There was no other explanation for the sudden tightening of security and upsurge in the population of mass-produced robots. Another attack on the city was imminent and the fortress was alive with excitement.

Bass, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. The only way he had acknowledged the preparations was to pay Blues a visit shortly after they began, warning him that it would be a good idea to get out of the city for a while. He had stopped by for another visit shortly afterward and found the hideout empty and abandoned, a clear sign that Blues had taken his advice and fled to safety.

The text arrived shortly before sunrise just over a week later. Bass had been napping when Treble dropped the vibrating phone into his hand, snapping him abruptly back to wakefulness. He squinted at the unfamiliar number for a moment before focusing on the message itself. The coordinates it contained pointed to somewhere outside of the city. There were no words, no obvious signs of who had sent the message, but he was sure he could guess.

The SWN pushed himself upright with a grunt. “Looks like we’re going out, Treble. Let’s not keep him waiting.”

—

On a grassy plain several miles from the nearest town, twin beams of light suddenly cut through the darkness as two robots teleported in. Bass was startled to find himself standing in knee-high grass, although it was far from the strangest place he had gone to meet his boyfriend. “Check for danger,” he commanded Treble, who immediately vanished into the darkness to sniff out any threats.

A quick search of the area showed Bass that the only signs of civilization were the railway tracks cutting through the grass a short distance away. Although he stared up and down the tracks, he could see no sign of an approaching train and couldn’t figure out why Blues would have picked this spot for a meeting. But before he could contemplate that for long, the sound of rustling caused him to turn in time to see Treble leading Blues toward him.

“There you are.” A tiny smile softened Bass’ expression as he moved to meet the two. Blues stretched out a hand to him and Bass took it, knowing his boyfriend was half blind in the darkness. Before long they were in each other’s arms, hugging so tightly one would have thought they had not seen each other in months.

“Sorry to call you out here,” Blues murmured into his partner’s shoulder.

“Don’t apologize. Just tell me what you need.”

There was a moment of silence before Blues withdrew and handed over a small data chip. As Bass squinted at it in the darkness, unable to tell what it was, Blues spoke up to save him the trouble. “Weapon data for Time Slow. We’re going to catch a train.”

Suddenly the location made sense. Bass shifted the tiny object to his fingertips and held it there, saving the data to his own copy chip. Once he was done he handed it back. “When’s the train coming?”

“Any minute now. Just get ready.”

Bass nodded and placed one foot on the tracks. At first he felt nothing, but he hadn’t expected to right away. Blues would have left enough time to ensure they wouldn’t miss the train and be forced to wait more than an hour for the next. Whatever he wanted to discuss, clearly he didn’t want to talk about it until they had left this spot.

The trio stood there in silence for several minutes before the first faint vibrations reached Bass. Instantly he retreated and Blues did the same, even crouching down in the grass so that he was harder to see. Treble quickly followed his lead. As the glow of headlights came into view and the rumble of the heavy vehicle became audible, Bass held both hands at the ready and waited for the right moment.

The engine had almost drawn level with the trio of robots when Bass unleashed Time Slow. Waves of distortion spread outward from his outstretched hands and instantly everything around him slowed to a crawl. The train was still moving at a shocking speed; the first few freight cars flashed by as Bass seized Blues around the waist and another had passed by the time he had his other arm around Treble. He leaped, missing the carriage he was aiming for and instead landing in one that was half-filled with crates. As the trio crashed down among wood and steel, the flow of time returned to normal and all three were sent rolling to the back of the carriage from the sudden burst of speed.

“Sorry about the rough landing,” Bass commented, pushing himself upright. He stretched out a hand to help Blues do the same.

“It’s fine. I’m just glad we made it.”

“So what’s this all about?” Bass questioned as Treble sat down between them. Blues began to slowly rub behind the wolf’s ears the way he liked, causing his tail to thump against the rough steel beneath them.

“Bass, I’ve been thinking. I keep worrying that Wily is going to find out about us and use you to get his hands on me. He still considers me one of his robots, and with this new attack coming up soon… It might be best if I disappear. And I’m going to need your help to pull it off.”

—

He had been right to ask Bass, Blues had concluded by the time they parted. He had not questioned it or called out his paranoia but had simply agreed to lend his assistance. Together the two had worked out which of Blues’ ideas seemed viable and which ones had major flaws. Bass had even pointed out several problems that Blues had failed to notice. And when the train neared its destination, Blues had told Bass where to meet him next time before teleporting away on his own, leaving Bass and Treble to head back home.

They had the plan fully constructed by the end of their third meeting. By the time Bass arrived for their fourth it was quite clear that Blues was ready to begin. As the SWN crawled through the entrance of the concealed cave where they had decided to meet, the first things he saw were the supplies and equipment Blues had been busy sorting through on the floor.

“You’ve been busy,” Bass commented as he climbed to his feet. In the weak beams of sunlight streaming in through various gaps he could make out clothing, a few pieces of mismatched armour seemingly salvaged from scrapyards, and even what looked like the helmet of a Sniper Joe. He nudged the latter with his foot. “You get this for target practice or are you actually planning to wear it?”

“I’ll need a disguise,” Blues explained, tossing a boot and a chest guard out of the way so that Bass could sit down.

“You wear all this junk and you’re gonna stand out more than you do now.”

“I’m not going to wear all of it,” Blues responded impatiently with a glance at the pile. “In case you didn’t notice, there are three pairs of boots here. I just took whatever I could find so we could throw something together. This is only a temporary disguise until…”

His words trailed off into silence. Bass waited, raising his eyebrows at the long pause. Just when he was about to push for more of an explanation, Blues let out a sigh and glanced away. “… I’ve already decided how I want to look. I just need to modify some of these pieces and find others that are better suited. When the idea occurred to me I knew it was the perfect way to hide. Bass… have you ever heard the name Quint?”

“Quint?” Narrowing his eyes in concentration, Bass searched first his memory and then his data banks. “… Yeah. I’ve got data on him. Never met him before, though.”

“I thought you wouldn’t. Quint came and went before you were built. He fought my brother on a few occasions and at one point Rock learned who he really was. The only reason I know is because he compared us at one point and claimed that we were similar. The two people who should want to fight him the least of all, but who decided to be his enemies anyway.”

“… And? Who is he?”

“… He’s Rock. A version of him from the future, reprogrammed to serve Wily. There was something about a stolen time machine. I don’t know all of the details. The important things are that he hasn’t been seen in years and that it would be the perfect disguise for me. Rock and I look a lot alike, after all.”

It made sense to Bass, in some strange and still vaguely nonsensical way. At least the logic of disguising himself as a copy of his brother was sound. “What’s the first step?”

“You’re not going to like it.” There was a flicker of a smile on Blues’ lips as he looked up again. A moment later he had discarded his helmet, smoothing out his exaggerated pompadour, and tossed a pair of scissors at his boyfriend’s feet. Bass glanced down at them and an expression of horror began to dawn on his face as he realized what Blues wanted.

“No.”

“You have to. I can’t do it myself. You know what my vision is like.”

“No! I can’t ruin your hair. Just look at it!”

"I know.” Regretfully Blues ran a hand through his hair once again. “I know it won’t grow back like a human’s would. Once you cut it I’ll be stuck with that style for the rest of my life. But it has to happen. If I’m going to become Quint, first I need to look like Rock. Please, Bass.”

Slowly Bass reached for the scissors and stared at the blades. “… You’re sure about this?”

“I’m sure. Go ahead and do it.”

Bass shuffled forward on his knees and reached up, taking a few stiff locks of his boyfriend’s hair between two fingers. It felt as though he was about to cut off his own weapon arm. He loved Blues’ gravity-defying hair. It just wouldn’t be the same once it was cut short. But if this was truly what Blues wanted - or at least, what he thought he needed to do - then he would do it.

Slowly and with incredible care, Bass began to trim off half an inch from the end of Blues’ hair. The scissors clicked and short strands of brown hair scattered over the floor of the cave as Blues sat with his eyes shut, trying to remain as still as possible until it was over. The blades fell silent far earlier than expected and Bass withdrew, prompting Blues to reach up and feel his hair. He frowned when it felt no different at all. “Will I need a microscope to see the clippings? Come on, Bass, take off more than that.”

The scissors clicked again. Once again Bass shortened his boyfriend’s hair by the same amount, and then again when he continued to insist. The tiny clumps of hair littering the floor slowly built up until they began to resemble a circle of fluffy carpet surrounding Blues. In this way it continued, half an inch at a time, until Blues was finally satisfied.

Bass tossed the offending tool aside as Blues rubbed a hand through his newly shortened hair to brush away any loose clippings. The remaining gel caused it to stick up in loose spikes and he swept it back, his other hand coming up to remove his shades and reveal the blue eyes he normally hid from the world. He flashed Bass a grin. “How do I look?”

The resemblance between the two brothers had never struck Bass quite as forcefully as it did now. Blues was slightly taller and was currently dressed differently, but the two could have passed for each other with almost no effort. The SWN stared for a moment before seizing Blues’ discarded helmet and dumping it back over his head. “Don’t do that. I’m getting the urge to shoot you.”

“That’s perfect.” Slipping his sunglasses back on beneath the helmet, Blues took it off again and cast it aside. With that he turned his attention to the pile of clothing and armour. “Now I need to dress the part. Which combination would make me look the most like Quint?”

Treble was diving headfirst into the pile before Bass could even get to his feet. Pushing aside anything that looked too damaged, he began to toss some of the most likely pieces over toward the two Robot Masters. The surprise was clear on Blues’ face as he glanced at Bass, who simply shrugged in response. “He’s got a better fashion sense than me. You’d better check if those boots even fit. I can grab you some old ones from the fortress if they don’t.”

Kicking off his own crimson boots, Blues stepped into the pair Treble had pushed his way and wriggled his feet around to test how tightly they fit. After a few experimental steps around the cave he nodded in satisfaction. “They need a new coat of paint, but they’ll work.”

Bass picked up the Joe helmet and lowered it over Blues’ head. It fit surprisingly well, although the moment his hands moved away Blues wrestled it off again. “Maybe the helmet was a bad idea after all. I suddenly had the urge to punch myself in the face.”

“Let me see if I can fix that.” Crouching down, Bass rested the helmet on the floor of the cave with its visor facing the ceiling. Blues lifted his shades to watch in curiosity as Bass produced a Metal Blade and began to slice through each side. Before long a chunk of steel fell away and he stood to hand back the helmet, which was now open beneath the visor. “Here. This might feel more like your old one.”

Blues slipped it on again and was surprised by the difference such a small modification made. He certainly wouldn’t be mistaken for a Joe model robot with his lower face exposed. “Thanks. That’s better.”

“No problem, _Quint_.”

The name caught Blues off-guard initially, but quickly he remembered his disguise. If he was going to be Quint he had to get used to using a different name yet again. It was probably a good idea to start now. “Quint. Hello, my name is Quint.”

“Nice to meet you, Quint. Now strip down and try these on.” A pair of camouflage pants hit Blues in the face before he could react. He pulled them away just in time for a long-sleeved shirt to follow. Ignoring the SWN’s snort of amusement at his terrible reflexes, he cast aside the new boots and obediently began to undress.

—

As the sun began to rise over the horizon several days later, its first few rays reflected off two figures sitting atop a skyscraper overlooking the sea. The shimmering and seemingly endless expanse of water was not what held their view, however; both of them were focused upon a ship that was preparing to leave. From so far away it looked like a toy, the tiny figures embarking for the voyage seemingly nothing more than ants crawling onto the deck.

One of those ants was Blues. One of his last few steps to faking his own death involved disabling anything that could be used to track him, including his ability to teleport. Although Bass had offered to lend a hand and teleport him far from the city, Blues had insisted on leaving in the old-fashioned way. He had commented that it reminded him of the old days, back when he was the only truly sentient robot in existence, when he had stowed away on ships in an attempt to leave his old life behind.

Bass had at least wanted to see him off in person, but once again Blues had refused to allow it. It was completely unlike the SWN and would have given the two away in an instant. Despite that, Bass had been determined to at least watch the ship leave. From all the way up here no one would even know who he was, let alone suspect why he was watching. At least he had his memories of the private farewell the two had shared the night before to keep him company.

By the time the sun had fully risen all of the figures had been aboard for some time. As the city’s regular bustle began in earnest far below, the ship finally began to move away. From his place beside his master Treble let out a soft whine, his ears drooping as he watched the ship slowly retreat. Without taking his eyes off it Bass began to slowly stroke his canine companion’s side. “I know. I already miss him too.”

When the ship grew distant enough to be lost among the waves, Bass sighed and reluctantly tore his gaze away. Instead he directed it toward the familiar helmet and shield lying behind him. “We’ve still got one last job to do for him. You ready to take care of it, boy?”

Instantly the wolf lowered himself to the ground and tucked his legs close to his body. By the time Bass had collected the items Treble had fully assumed his jetboard form. The pair lifted off from the skyscraper and flew toward the sea, gradually losing altitude the entire way. As Bass balanced on his support unit’s back, he couldn’t help but stare at the horizon and wonder if they could still catch up with the ship.

Treble’s bark snapped him out of his thoughts. They were fifty feet out over open water, no longer descending but now circling slowly. Bass drew a deep breath of the sea air before relaxing his grip on Blues’ helmet and shield. They fell together, the shield breaking the water’s surface a fraction of a second before the helmet. Both objects immediately sank out of view and within moments the foam from their landing had been swept away.

It had been another of Blues’ ideas, of course. In time the equipment would be found or perhaps wash up on the beach, covered in rust and ocean life. Doctor Light - and hopefully Wily as well - would naturally assume that Blues had died somewhere at sea. No one would ever guess that he was still alive somewhere with such evidence standing against the idea. At least, that was what he had hoped.

“… C’mon, Trebs. We’re done here. Let’s go grab some burgers and ice cream to make us feel better.” Bass turned his gaze back toward the city, shutting out the loneliness that attempted to creep in as Treble began to carry him back toward land.

**Author's Note:**

> I might write out the mentioned private farewell if there's any interest or if I suddenly have inspiration for it, but it's definitely going to be NSFW.


End file.
